String Theory
by Gorgonfish
Summary: Friendships tie us together and fate shackles us to destiny's will. The past follows a direct path into the present and beyond. Blood passes on traits, positive and negative, from parent to child. Everything is connected, some more closely than others, but the attentive observer can always spot this connection. It's a dangerous gamble when you play with invisible strings.
1. Departures and Arrivals

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related properties belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm not so egotistical as to claim rights to any original characters that might appear in this work.

Chapter 1: Departures and Arrivals

Two blonde figures huddled together on the pavement outside a wrought-iron fence. Behind them, past a spired gate and manicured lawn, lay a quaint cottage. The younger of the two scuffed his smart black shoes against a sizable trunk that sat in front of him. From a terrarium atop the trunk came a deep croak, sounding louder in the absence of the pair's routine jostling and chatter. Today they were going somewhere. The older checked her pocket watch then wiped away a loose swath of hair. When she exhaled it was close to a growl.

"They should be here by now," she leaned forward and peered down the lane, "they couldn't have forgotten. Mundy wasn't coming, was he?"

The boy squatted close to the ground and began tapping the plastic container holding his new pet toad. It croaked.

"He had to work," he said absently.

"Mundungus _working_? Like that will ever happen. He's scheming gold out of some innocent old woman, more like it. I don't know why I let you keep that animal. No telling where he stole it from."

"Mr. Toad is special. I like him and Mundy too."

"That's not healthy, the way you worship him. Eventually you will be disillusioned just like I was. He's fun now, but the second you rely on him," she made a minuet swiping gesture," he vanishes."

"You got disillusioned. Not him."

She scowled, though her lips turned upward a bit. That was something.

Ben Fletcher couldn't figure out why she disliked his uncle Mundy besides her general unpleasantness. It was always the same lines: 'He's a criminal, and not a very good one', 'One of these days the Ministry will say enough is enough and throw him in Azkhaban', and of course 'Admiring him isn't healthy, Benedict. Do you even know the number of times he might have been expelled? You can't afford to end up like him'.  
>His uncle was the greatest. He knew strange wizards from all over the world and always had a new surprise to show during family gatherings. Not that he let Mum know about these show and tells; she'd explode if she ever found out. The almost tamed Devil's Snare at this year's Solstice viewing was mild compared to the other items Mundy collected.<p>

The boy stood up.

"Why do Nan and Grandpa have to take us? We can Floo to the Lurky Cauldron, right?"

"_Leaky_ Cauldron, Benedict."

He clenched his fists, but she didn't notice. "Sorry."

"That's alright, honey, you have to practice though. Mispronouncing Floo names is dangerous enough. Merlin forbid an incantation. Besides, you don't need soot in your trunk once you change into your robes."

Ben shrugged. Pockets were the best and his school robes didn't have any. He planned on wearing his day clothes under them. What if other students wanted to trade Frog Cards or play Gobstones? Layers would also help a lot if Hogwarts turned out to be as large and drafty as his cousin made him believe, but she was cold all the time.

"So why do they have to drive us?" He rubbed at the scuff on his shoe.

"We have always done it like this. The first time a Fletcher leaves for Hogwarts we send them off as a family."

He blanched. "That's bad. Embarrassing."

"Don't worry; it will just be your grandparents and me."

"Marie too?"

"I don't think so. You might see her on the train."

"Why didn't we go watch her leaving the platform?"

"Victoria's an Edgecombe now, her family has other traditions."

"Auntie still counts as your family, she's your sister."

Catherine scoffed. "Nearly ten years older than me. By the time I knew what was going on, she was half finished with school and then moving out. She wanted to be alone. Thought she was better than the rest of us, I suppose."

Ben rolled his eyes. Mother enjoyed separating people into opposite camps: the ones she tolerated and the ones she didn't. Everyone had to be kept at a distance. The largest show of emotion he'd ever seen in her was on the day an owl flew in their garden with his Hogwarts letter. He caught on after a few years that life was less complicated if he acted like she did, a robot basically. Thinking of it as a game let him have fun in his own mind.

He heard the growing sound of a car engine in the distance.

"Finally."

"Can I read a book on the way, Mum?"

"No, dear. We would just have to repack it at the station, that's too much hassle. You can play with the toad as long as he stays in the container. Alright?"

"Yes, Mum." He didn't find it 'alright' at all.

A silver Range Rover parked next to them. The driver, a man with graying hair, opened his door and gave Ben a wink.

"Sorry we're late, Cathy," the man pounded his fist on the vehicle's roof, "hit a nail this side of Holt and had to find a spot to spell it back to function. We should still make Kings Cross half past ten. You ready?"

"Yes, father. Benedict needs his trunk put in the boot. Help him?" She slipped into the rear driver's side door. When it closed, the older man looked down at his only companion in the brisk September morning.

"Hold him while I get this put away, yes?"

Ben plucked Mr. Toad's tank up, carrying it gingerly as he followed his grandfather to the back of the vehicle. Once it sat snug in the rear of the rover his grandfather held him back from hopping inside.

"Did you pack your catapult, Benny?"

"Yes." He patted his trouser pocket.

"And you've practiced those spells I taught you?"

"Yes, sir, with a stick from the garden," he said as he jerked his right hand to the wand movements of a particular favorite of his.

"Splendid. Remember to spot for prefects and teachers before you use them, yes? "

"Mum gave me the 'Mundy' talk yesterday," he grumbled.

"Make sure to do your schoolwork. That castle doesn't teach much in the way of fun, so you'll have to learn it on your own time."

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy. You'll do us proud at Hogwarts, I know it."

"What if I don't sort into the right house," he asked quietly, kicking his shoe against the pavement, "what if they find out… what if I'm not good enough?"

Atticus placed gripped his grandson's shoulder.

"You are plenty good enough, Benny. Forget about the sorting and living up to your mother's expectations. This is your life and you choose how it turns out. Have fun, make friends, do what _you_ want. Otherwise you're going to be miserable just like her." He gave a gloomy smile and ushered Ben in the direction of his seat then trudged to his own.

The engine starting up drowned out some of the idle pleasantries made between Ben and his Nan as the journey to Platform Nine & Three Quarters began.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

The Fletcher family parked a block from the bustling station roughly half an hour before the Hogwarts Express departed. Ministry officials were out in the early morning blanketing a section of parking spots with muggle-repeling charms, or so his grandfather said. They formed a semi-circle facing the vehicle as Atticus flicked his wand, confidently muttered an incantation, and grinned at the metal luggage cart conjured before them. Once the trunk was heaved onto it with Mr. Toad's terrarium sitting atop, their procession left. Ben chanced a look at his mother and wasn't surprised by the grumpiness etched on her face. Soon enough he'd be free.

Ben walked alongside Atticus, who directed the cart through midmorning pedestrian traffic, absorbing all the sights of muggle London life. Sure, he and his mother shopped in Diagon Alley over a month ago, but that was tucked away from the real city. The sheer volume nearly overwhelmed his mind; Cromer wasn't even a sliver this busy during tourist season.  
>What stood out the most to Ben was how similar to an ant colony Kings Cross operated. Everyone knew exactly where they were supposed to go and held an almost supernatural determination to ignore their entire surroundings save for the path toward their destination. As his grandfather swam through the crowded walkway of Platform 10 Ben spotted one person fighting against his metaphor. A small boy in large, scruffy clothes stood in the middle of the platform splitting the flow of traffic like a stone in the river.<p>

Ben tugged on Atticus' sleeve and pointed at the boy.

"I think he's lost, Grandpa."

The snowy white owl stacked on a trunk gave away the boy's reason for being in the station.

"Right, must be a Muggleborn then. Why don't you invite his family to follow us, Benny? You can slip between people easier than I can. Meet us three arches down, yes?"

Ben nodded and split off from his mother and grandparents. He weaved himself through the gaps easily, his skill honed from years of playing tag. It was quite lucky he arrived when he did as the other boy seemed to finally build up the nerve to ask a guard for directions. Ben jogged the last stretch and poked him in the back. It might have been a bit rude, but it caught his attention at least.

"Um, can I help you?" The boy gripped his luggage cart tightly with one hand like he might run for it if he was spooked in the slightest.

"You're going to Hogwarts, yeah? Your head was twisting around more than your owls, all lost and such." Ben gave him a toothy grin that he hoped wasn't too off-putting. A certain person had mentioned once that his smile and he in general were creepy, but she was a deviant so he didn't listen to her very often.

Relief fell on the other boys face like a waterfall.

"Can you show me- you know – how to get on the Platform," he asked timidly.

"That's why I'm here," Ben said, "if you get your family I can show you."

He made a point to avoid looking at Ben.

"I'm not here with anyone."

"What? They just left you?" Ben realized his mistake when the boy recoiled. He didn't mean to be so loud.

"Sorry. Come on, follow me."

Ben and his new companion wound their way slowly down the platform until he spotted his family under an elongated archway. He told the boy to head for his Nan, whose glossy strawberry blonde hair made for a great beacon. When they came to a halt next to the other cart Atticus spoke up.

"Ah, good time Benny. Where's this young lad's family?"

Ben, who stood behind the black-haired kid, shook his head and formed an x-shape with his hands.

His grandfather thankfully understood. "Right, let's do this then, shall we? Ladies first."

Cathy waited for a clear path then strode briskly at the barrier wall that separated platforms 9 and 10. Ben expected the bricks to pull apart like legos; that had surprised him a great deal at the Leaky Cauldron. A second before his mother hit the wall she simply vanished. His Nan remarked on his mother's chronic rudeness before following through the barrier.

"Ben, why don't we let our guest...?"

"Harry," the boy responded while his eyes were bugging out at what had just occurred.

"Yes, Harry," Atticus said as if testing the name in his mouth, "why don't you go first?"

Harry turned his face back toward them. "A-are you sure?"

"It's fine, son. If you have trouble, we will be right behind you. Wait with my wife on the other side and I'll help the two of you put your trunks on the train. Go on, then, run right at it and don't hesitate."

Once Harry was on the other side of the barrier, Ben cleared his throat.

"Grandpa, can I push the trunk?"

He chuckled and grabbed Mr. Toad's container. "How many parsecs do you suspect it'll take you?"

"Parsecs are distance, not time."

"I know; I felt like testing you. Wouldn't want that girlfriend of yours cross with you on the first day, would you?"

"She's _not_ my girlfriend," he grumbled, rubbing the palm of his left hand.

"Very well." He gestured in front of them.

Ben sucked in a large breath then let it out slowly. He tightened his hold and shoved forward with a confident gait. Angry shouts and yelps of pain surrounded him as he clipped ankles against the hard edges of his cart. He consciously chose not to close his eyes as he came upon the dark brick wall, but it ended up being in vain. Within a fraction of a second the commotion of the muggle station was swept away by a new blanket of sound: one full of clamoring animals, stressed adults, excited children, and the overwhelming bellow of a horn.

His brain couldn't decide what it should take in first. Cats slipped through the crowd with swift, calculated steps. Owls flew up and down the platform under the arched glass ceiling that shielded it from the outside world. Steam drifted from the rich crimson passenger train waiting to usher Ben off to a magical castle. He jumped at a hand clasping his shoulder.

"Perhaps we should move so others can get through?"

He nodded. "Right, sorry."

As they drifted down alongside the train, Ben felt for the first time part of something bigger. The Hogwarts Express was almost entirely crammed with students attempting to settle in for the journey or speaking to their family one last time. Children ran through the crowd looking for friends with which to share a compartment. A particular pair caused Ben to stop in his tracks. His grandfather smiled, dumping the terrarium back in Ben's arms and regaining control of the cart.

"Why don't you talk to them, I'll get your things settled on the train. Do you mind sharing with Harry?"

"No, that's fine," he said vacantly.

Atticus left as Ben slowly approached two people he'd been nervous about seeing all summer. The taller of them, a gangly girl with light brown hair tied in a plait down her back , waved enthusiastically as soon as she saw him.

"Hi, Ben! I didn't expect to see you until the train left. Is that the new pet you wrote about in your letters? Do you want to sit with us?"

Her blonde, pigtailed, friend rolled her eyes and let out a breath. "Calm down, Susan. Fletcher isn't sharp enough to understand complex sentences."

Ben openly growled.

"Hello, Suzy," he said. "Yeah, this is Mr. Toad I was telling you about."

"Really, a toad? How lame can one kid be? Gobstones is bad enough, but this?"

"Where's Tigger," he asked.

"Oh, he's asleep on the train. It's too noisy outside and he digs his claws in when he's frightened," she said, clasping her hands together.

"You're going to ignore me, then?"

He grinned, consciously making as creepy as possible.

"Mother says I'm not allowed to speak with murderers, Abbott."

Her brow furrowed before she responded. "Idiot, how can I have murdered you if you're still alive?"

"Maybe he's a zombie," Susan asked.

"Don't encourage the weirdo! And he is _not_ sitting with us!" She huffed for good measure and stormed toward the entrance to the train cabin.

"See you at Hogwarts, Miss Piggy!"

He laughed for a good half minute at the shriek from inside the train.

Susan pouted. "You shouldn't be so mean, Ben. She has issues with her weight."

"Why do you always get mad at me for saying things? Hannah's just as bad, she tried to kill me. Did you forget that?"

"No, it was an accident!" She jabbed a thin finger in front of his face. "You were the one who was wearing handcuffs, Ben!"

"How come that excuses her from all the horrible things she calls me?"

"She's my friend, and friends forgive each other. I'm sure if you tried the two of you could play nice."

He stared at her intently, a million things buzzing in his mind.

"So we're not friends, yeah? Because you never let me get away with anything."

"You're different than her because-"

"Of my mum, right? Hannah's mum is a muggle, how's that any better?"

Susan's face showed only shock. "Ben, I never meant it that way!"

"Then how'd you mean it?"

"I…" She twisted her hands.

"Never mind. I've got a new friend to sit with so enjoy your time with Emperor Palpatine, Vader," he spat out.

"Ben, wait!"

He sprinted away and her shouts tapered off soon after. It never felt good after having a row with Susan, but anyone who willingly befriended Hannah Abbott had to be a bit mental. His grandfather had been right though, people did treat him strange because of his mother, even childhood friends.

Ben headed in the general direction his family had gone, once again spotting his Nan's bright red-orange hair. The platform was now packed like a sardine tin. It required all of his attention to squeezing through the throngs of people while holding a plastic container filled with stones and water.

He finally reached the place they were waiting for him, a small gap in the crowd right up against a passenger car. They were chatting with the boy, Harry; his head leaned out the open window of what he assumed was their compartment. Deciding not to interrupt their conversation, he snuck down further, hopped onto the train car, and counted the sliding doors until he came to their compartment. Opening the door took some footwork, but a minute later he was safely seated opposite Harry with Mr. Toad at his feet under the small fold-out table between them. His trunk was tucked away on the shelf above his head.

"Ben, what are you doing in there," his mother asked.

"It's too loud outside, Mother. Besides, the train's going to leave in a second."

He rarely called her mother, which she caught onto quickly.

"You spoke to that Bones girl, didn't you?" She glared at Atticus and then turned back. "That whole family is nothing but trouble."

He pressed his heels hard against the floor.

"She's not the problem, Hannah is."

"Well, ignore both of them. They will only get you riled up, mess with your studies."

He gave her a half-hearted 'fine'.

The minutes leading to the train's departure were taken up by his grandparents' mock-arguing over which of the two's house he'd end up in: Hufflepuff or Slytherin. His mother pointedly blocked them out, saying her goodbyes. Before the train left Atticus held out a felt pouch barely the size of his fist, which Ben grabbed cautiously.

"Some spending money."

"Write us every week, Benedict," his Nan said.

"I will."

"Ask Marietta for help; finding classrooms is never as easy as you'd think."

"I know, Nan."

"Alright, dear. We love you."

"Love you too," he mumbled.

Atticus laughed. "See you at the Solstice, Benny."

The train lurched forward. His grandparents and mother waved goodbye amidst a sea of other people sending off their children. In no time they were out of view. Ben was alone. _Almost alone, I suppose_. He offered his hand to Harry, disrupting his staring out the window.

"I didn't tell you my name before, I'm Ben Fletcher."

He shook hands and said, "Harry Potter."

Ben gaped. He was sitting with a celebrity.

"Woah, you're shorter than I thought you'd be."

Harry's face turned red.

The door to their compartment slid open and a tall red haired boy walked in.

"Mind if I sit with you, everywhere else is full?"

Ben and Harry glanced at each other awkwardly until Harry spoke up. "Not at all, need help with your trunk?"

The relieved boy nodded and with all of them pitching in got his trunk settled vertically on the other end of Ben's side leaning on the inner wall of the compartment. Hopefully no one else wanted to sit with them.

"I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley," their guest said.

"Ben Fletcher."

"Harry Potter," he said reluctantly.

"Really? Have you got the…" He pointed at Harry's forehead.

He pushed back his hair for the two of them to see the jagged lightning bolt scar slightly off center above his brow. Ben liked Ron; he asked the questions anyone else would be too embarrassed to ask.

"Is that where he, You-Know-Who—"

"I don't remember," Harry said, his tone stating he didn't want to talk about that particular subject anymore.

The room was quiet long enough that it became uncomfortable. Scenery flew by from the window, making a slow transition from urban to rural. Harry was the first to break the silence.

"Are all your families wizards?" It didn't seem to be directed at either specifically.

"Mostly, yeah," Ben said, "there might be a Squib in the extended relatives. It's hard to keep track."

"Same for me," Ron said. "Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but she never talks about him."

"Squib, what's that," Harry asked.

"They can't do magic, like a muggle, except they come from magical families. Opposite of a muggleborn, I suppose."

"Oh. You must know loads of magic already then."

Ben smirked. "I practiced a few spells over summer, jinxes and such, nothing too dangerous."

"I heard you lived with muggles. What are they like?"

"Awful," Harry said, "not all of them, but my relatives definitely. Especially my cousin, he's horrible."

"Wish I had a boy cousin. Mine is a girl, the gossipy kind. All she talks about is boys at school with her friends."

Harry asked, "She's at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, second year in Ravenclaw." Ben looked at Ron. "What about you, any relatives in Hogwarts?"

He sighed. "Three brothers in Gryffindor, third year and fifth year."

"Twins? That's cool," Ben said.

"Not as much as you'd imagine. They're always messing with me."

Harry spoke up. "It must be exciting to have three siblings though, right?"

"Six. I'm the sixth kid in our family to go to Hogwarts. Guess I've got big shoes to fill, huh? My two oldest brothers, Bill and Charlie, are already out of school- Bill was head boy and Charlie was quidditch captain. Percy's a prefect and Fred and George are the ones always pulling pranks, but they get high marks and everyone likes them a lot. Mum and Dad and the rest of the family expect me to do as well as all of them, but even if I do it's no big deal because they've already done it, haven't they? Everything you get is used, too, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

He showed them a balding gray rat that was sleeping inside the front of his jacket.

"Woah. Sorry, mate."

Ron grimaced "Yeah. His name's Scabbers, he doesn't do much but eat and sleep. Percy got an owl for being made prefect, but they couldn't aff- I got Scabbers."

"I thought you said six siblings," Ben asked, attempting to change the subject.

"I've got a sister too. She'll be coming to Hogwarts next year."

He didn't sound very excited about that.

"I didn't have any money until I got my Hogwarts letter and found out I had some at Gringotts. My whole life I've been wearing my cousin's fat hand-me-downs. Haven't ever gotten a proper birthday present before."

Ben shuffled in his seat, finding the entire exchange weird, but Ron cheered up at Harry's story.

"…and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know I was even a wizard or about Voldemort and my parents."

Ben and Ron both gasped.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"_You said You-Know-Who's name!_" they said almost in sync.

"I'd have thought you of all people-" Ron said.

"I'm not trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying his name," Harry said. "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn, I bet," he paused, staring out the window morosely, before continuing, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"Don't worry about it. Loads of kids come from muggle families that don't know any magic and they get on well enough."

"Yeah, and I'm sure the coursework will be the toughest part. You went to muggle primary, right? So you're ahead in that at least," Ben said.

Harry cocked his head. "You didn't go to primary?"

"No, Mum taught me writing and arithmetic herself. I think she was afraid I'd do some accidental magic; first time was when I was seven: I apparated to Appleby all the way from the Lakes District."

"My parents taught me too," Ron said.

During their conversation the Hogwarts express had cleared London. A hush fell as domesticated animals and fertile fields swept past the window. Ben nearly nodded off once or twice.

Half past noon a plump, friendly looking woman opened the sliding door to reveal a trolley piled with sweets. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Ben's stomach gurgled as he perused the selection. He wasn't sure what Hogwarts would serve at for supper, so he decided to buy extra if he needed it. Deciding on five chocolate frogs, two pumpkin pasties, and one packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, he gave the woman one sickle and eight knuts before taking them back to his seat.

He chewed on his first chocolate frog as he looked at the card that came with it; luckily it wasn't one he had. A nasty man with a frizzled white beard, long sharp nose, and dark eyes stared back at him. Flipping it over, he read:

**Herpo the Foul**

Ancient Greek Dark wizard who was the first known creator of a basilisk. Herpo was a Parselmouth, a hereditary gift for speaking to snakes, which allowed him to control the serpent. He was also the first wizard to successfully create a horcrux.

Harry returned with his arms packed with treats which he dumped in the space between him and Ron.

"Hungry," Ron asked.

"Starving," said Harry, picking up a pumpkin pasty and offering one to Ron.

Ben devoured the rest of his chocolate, more worried about which cards he'd get than choking or even tasting. It wasn't a bad haul: Helga Hufflepuff, Paracelsus, Ethelred the Ever-Ready, and Gifford Ollerton. Herpo the Foul and Paracelsus were the only ones he already had. He was still on the watch for Glanmore Peakes, the most famous wizard to come from Cromer. When he looked back at Ron and Harry they'd both made a dent in the pile of assorted sweets. Ron had just finished explaining the famous wizard cards and how chocolate frogs weren't real frogs. Harry had gotten Dumbledore as his first card.

"He's gone," he shouted a moment later.

"Probably has better things to do than stay on the card all day," Ron said as he opened a chocolate frog wrapper," don't worry, he'll be back. Merlin, another Morgana, I've got about six of her… here you take it." He handed the card to Harry. "Ben, do you collect?"

"Yeah, a bit. I brought them in my trunk to trade with, think I have three hundred and seventy two or so. How about you?"

"Last I counted around five hundred. Still need Agrippa and Ptolemy, do you have those?"

"I might have that second one, can you trade it for Glanmore Peakes?"

"It's at home, I think. Trade on Christmas break?"

"Sounds alright."

Ben finished off his pumpkin pasties as Harry opened his Bertie Bott's package. He swallowed the last bite, wishing he had something to wash it down, and jabbed a finger at the box.

"Those are so good, but some of the flavours are gross. I'll tell you which are which if you want; I've memorized all the bean patterns."

"All of them," Ron asked.

"It's a thing I can do; I'm good with remembering stuff I see."

Ben thought he bought a few points with the other boys after they tested him with all the various beans they could find. Harry was nice enough to give him the ones he requested, though he tossed him a quizzical glance every time. He couldn't help it if no one understood the acquired taste of grass and coffee. Ben saved his own packet of beans; he hoped to ration them out for a couple of weeks at the least.

The scene outside the window had changed dramatically. What was colonized farmland had become dark wilderness, rolling hills, and winding rivers.

A round-faced boy with tearstained cheeks came into their compartment in hysterics. His eyes roamed the room before he built up the courage to speak.

"Have any of you seen a toad?"

They told him they hadn't seen a toad at all.

"Why does he keep running away," he asked sadly.

Harry said, "I'm sure he'll turn up." The boy left shortly after.

"What's he so worried about anyways," Ron asked, "if was made to bring a toad I'd try to lose it fast as possible. Everyone knows toads are lame, they not good for much more than potions ingredients."

"Says the boy," Ben spat as he reached underneath the table for Mr. Toad's container, "with a rat. Rats aren't even on the list of acceptable pets. Watch this."

He gently picked his toad out of the terrarium and set it on the seat next to him. Its beady eyes drank in the occupants of the room. Ben swiped a discarded chocolate frog wrapper with one hand while rubbing the hinges of Mr. Toad's jaw with the other. He quickly threw it in the animals mouth before it snapped shut again.

"What are we supposed to see, you kill your toad," asked Ron.

"No. The time's different for every item. Wait for it…"

So they watched the dull, albeit well-trained toad lounge on the cushion for five minutes. Ron kept trying to talk, but Ben waved his arms around wildly to shut him up. If it took much longer Harry would fall into full-on laughter.

Then it happened. Mr. Toad didn't change colours to match the wrapper, tiny versions of the wrapper were growing across the toad's back and legs. Ben thought it very poetic, Mr. Toad the toad decorated as a chocolate frog.

"Well, I don't know what that is, but toads can't do that," Ron said flustered.

"Can so. My uncle Mundy found this one in the Mediterranean. It eats algae to make camouflage."

"My brother George taught me a spell to turn Scabbers yellow. I'll show you," he said, manhandling the sleeping rat, "Stupid thing, can't even tell if it's napping or dead."

Ron plucked a chipped wand with what looked like unicorn hair peeking from a crack out of his trunk. Ben made a bet with himself whether it would break from casting a spell or just waving it a little.

He raised his wand when the door slid open again. The crying boy from earlier was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She had frighteningly bushy hair, large front teeth not unlike a rabbit, and she had on her Hogwarts robes.

"Neville's lost his toad, have you seen it," she asked bossily. Then her eyes landed on Mr. Toad. "Oh, there it is!"

Ben had his wand out of his inside jacket pocket and aimed at the girl in the seconds it took her to reach for his toad.

"Sorry, but this is my toad. His name is Mr. Toad, it's a mirage to the one from The Wind and the Willow."

"Homage." She drew out the 'age' pronunciation.

"What?"

"Homage is the word used when you reference something respectfully, a mirage is a type of illusion. You were using the wrong word."

"Whatever, this is my toad. We already told that kid we haven't seen it."

She placed her hands on her hips. "How do I know you aren't saying that so you can steal Neville's toad?"

Ron snorted. "Because no one's so stupid they'd steal a toad willingly, maybe if a dark wizard threatened them. I don't see a dark wizard hiding in the luggage rack, do you?"

The girl gave Ron the evil eye and decided to aim her unpleasantness at him instead.

"Doing a spell, are you? Have a go."

Ben had to grab his pet, she didn't even check before sitting down. He shifted closer to the wall for good measure.

"Fine," Ron said.

He pointed his wand tip at Scabbers and said, "Sunshine, daises, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

And nothing changed.

"That can't be spell, can it? I've done a handful of the beginning spells from our textbooks and none of the incantations were in the form of poetry. They were all based in Latin or Greek languages with few exceptions. After buying my wand and spell books, I practiced a bit at home and they worked perfectly for me. Mum and Dad are still very confused by most of the magical world, but I think it's wonderful, especially Hogwarts. Our school is the best for learning magic in all of Europe and the rest of the world too, I suspect. Being muggleborn, I thought I might be handicapped for lessons so I memorized the entire curriculum by heart. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Her face was turning rather blue by the end of it.

The three boys blinked.

"Ben Fletcher," he said coldly.

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Really? Oh, that's wonderful! I've read all about you, of course, you're one of the major figures in the history of Wizarding Britain and the world too. Let's see, you were in _Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._"

Harry balked. "Didn't know, sorry."

"Goodness, I'd have read everything I could if I was in your place," said Hermione. "Do you know what house you'll be in yet? I've been asking the older students and so far Gryffindor sounds like the best, though Ravenclaw wouldn't be too horrible either. Well… I promised Neville I would help him find his toad so we best be off. You'd better change into your robes soon; I expect we'll be arriving shortly."

And with that Hermione Granger strolled out of the cabin with Neville on her heel.

"Whatever house I'm in," Ron said while tossing his wand haphazardly into his trunk, "I hope she's in the one clear across Hogwarts."

"What house is your family in," asked Harry.

Ben replied, "Hmm, grandpa was in Hufflepuff, my aunt was in Gryffindor, Nan and Mundy were Slytherin, and my cousin Marietta is in Ravenclaw. I think that's it."

"How about your mum?"

"Oh," he said nervously, "she didn't go to Hogwarts." He left it at that.

Ron looked gloomy. "All my family is in Gryffindor. I bet they'll be disappointed if I don't get it too. Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, though I'd likely leave if they put me in Slytherin."

"Hey," said Ben, "Slytherin isn't bad!"

"All the Dark wizards come from there."

"What about Sirius Black? He was Gryffindor."

"But he came from a whole lot of Slytherins."

"Merlin was a Slytherin and he was a nice person."

"Isn't that the house Vol-, You-Know-Who was in?"

Ben shot Harry a betrayed look.

"So what does your family do," Harry asked Ben as an olive branch.

"My grandfather, Atticus Fletcher, supplies magically-rich timber to the lesser wandmakers and almost all the broom companies in the United Kingdom. Mum's his secretary and Nan breeds Krups, but it's more of a hobby than a job," he said snobbishly.

"What about yours, Ron?"

"Oh, umm, Dad works at the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. My older brother Charlie studies dragons in Romania and Bill is in Africa as a cursebreaker for Gringotts," he said. "Did either of you hear about the robbery? It was all over the _Daily Prophet_. Someone tried to steal from a high-security vault at the office in Diagon Alley. They didn't get caught though, so everyone's in a frenzy about it."

Ben forgot to be mad at the hint of a mystery. The backlog of Scooby Doo episodes whirred in his head as he blurted out, "What did they take? Which vault was it? Do you know what time of day?"

Ron blinked. "That's the odd part. They didn't take anything as far as those goblins can tell. My dad reckons it must've been a pretty powerful Dark wizard to make it down there and not be trapped by the curses they have as protection."

Ben made a mental note to write all the information down and find a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ to rake through for more details. Perhaps subscribing to _The Quibbler_ hadn't been the best idea, but it presented itself as a more fun read than any of the other items at the newsstand in Diagon Alley. He could always nick one of another student if he absolutely had to.

"So what're your Quidditch teams," asked Ron, who had become bothered by the silence.

"Appleby Arrows," Ben said. He searched around in his trouser pocket and brought out a robin blue pin with a silver arrow flying across its front. Once his robes were on he planned on pinning it under the blank crest on the left breast.

"Arrows, huh? I support Chudley Cannons myself," he looked at Harry sympathetically, "I guess you don't know about Quidditch, right?"

Ron launched into an explanation of the sport and the teams that played professionally in England and Ireland, the types of broomsticks and their individual strengths and drawbacks, specific games he'd been to with his family, and stories about playing pickup games in a clearing near his home. He'd just begun teaching Harry about snitches, bludgers, and quaffles when the compartment door slid open again, but it wasn't Hermione or Neville this time. It was someone much worse; Ben didn't know him personally, but the princely air and slick, pale blonde hair gave away the surname.

"There's a rumour going up and down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment," the boy stated as if he didn't really care whether it was true or not. He inspected the three occupants. His eyes locked onto the dark haired boy with glasses. "It's you then, is it?"

"Yes," Harry said warily. His eyes kept jumping between the pair of gorilla-human hybrids behind the boy who seemed to be the leader of their social group.

"These are Crabbe and Goyle," he said absently when he saw where Harry was gazing. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron and Ben snorted for entirely different reasons.

"Think my names funny, huh? No need to ask your surname. My father says the best way to spot a Weasley, besides the obnoxious red hair, is to count whether they have more children than freckles or money."

He turned back to Harry. "Stay in our world long enough, Potter, and you'll find that some families are better than others." He swept a hand toward Ben. "Take Fletcher here, for instance. Did you know he's the bastard son of a Squib whore? His dear mum doesn't even know who the father is. I think I'd hang myself from the shame, honestly. Stick with me and I can show you the right sort of people to associate with. What do you say?" Draco held out a hand.

Ben clutched his wand that had been lying on the seat against his leg. He was going to murder Draco Malfoy if it was the last thing he did.

Harry didn't move a muscle. "I think I can spot the wrong sort myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco didn't respond immediately, but pink crept into the pale complexion of his cheeks.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Potter," he said menacingly. "I'd try to pick up some manners quick before you end up just like your parents. Befriending the wrong people got them killed, you know. Hang around with rubbish like these," he glared at Ron and Ben, "or that big oaf Hagrid and you catch their disease too."

All three of them were on their feet in the next second. Ben had his wand aimed at Malfoy's head over Ron's shoulder.

"Haha, you want a fight, do you," sneered Malfoy.

Harry gulped. "Unless you leave right now."

"No thanks, we don't feel like it just yet. See we've gone and eaten all our sweets, but you still have plenty. I'm sure you don't mind if we take some. Go ahead, boys."

The compartment became utter chaos. Goyle reached for one of Ron's chocolate frogs- Ron rushed at him, but before he could lay a finger on him Goyle cried out in pain.

Ben flicked his wand down and back up to the right, shouting, "Surgo Pepo!" A sickly orange light jettisoned from the tip and hit Crabbe straight in the forehead. It appeared as though everything from his neck up had become a pumpkin; the truth was that it conjured a pumpkin around his head. All it took was a good whack to split the gourd around him.

Goyle leapt about the cabin shaking his rat-laden hand like it was on fire. He howled and whimpered as Scabbers valiantly hung on for dear life until he was dislodged and hit the window with a great thud. The ruckus stirred Mr. Toad. The croak of what seemed to be a giant chocolate frog scared them enough that they ran off, dragging the muffled screaming body of Crabbe behind them. Hermione Granger stalked in right after them.

"_What_ are you boys doing?"

Sweets wrappers were strewn across the floor and Ron was cradling a limp pet rat with half-concern. "I think he's been knocked out," he said. "Never mind. He's just sleeping again."

"You've met Malfoy before," Ben asked Harry.

He told them about his encounter with the pale bigot in Diagon Alley.

"The Malfoys are bad people, the kind that give Slytherin a bad name," said Ben.

"They used to be You-Know-Who's followers until he died, then they came crawling back to our side making excuses about being under the control of dark magic. My dad doesn't believe it one bit, says Malfoy was a blood purist well before You-Know-Who showed up." Ron sighed and glared at Hermione. "Need something?"

"I came by to tell you we're almost at Hogwarts, that's what the conductor told me when I spoke with him earlier. It would be wise to put on your robes now; you won't have time once we've stopped, will you? There wasn't a fight in here was there?"

"Scabbers was fighting not us," said Ron. "And Ben helped someone find a pumpkin pasty. It got a bit messy. Mind leaving so we can change?"

"Very well, I only dropped by because people outside are being silly. Running and screaming in the halls, shouting vulgarities, honestly. You might want to wash your face too, you've got dirt on it," she said, her tone uppity.

Ron stuck his tongue out at her as she left. The sky was dark outside now, and mountains stood out against the deep forest landscape. It might have been the increase in curved track, but the train did seem slower than earlier.

The boys removed their jackets and threw on their black robes. The bottom seams just touched the floor, except for Ron's. His sneakers could be seen. Ben was glad he wasn't the only one who kept day clothes on underneath; it would be weird to strip down to pants with people he'd only known half a day. They finished dressing by placing pointed black hats on their heads.

A voice enhanced by magic moved through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Everyone silently rummaged through their things. Ron and Harry pocketed outlying sweets that hadn't been opened while Ben stored Mr. Toad back in his container and set it on the table. He slipped his new frog cards and pouch of coins in his trunk. They stumbled solemnly out into the corridor with the growing crowd of children.

When the train stopped people pushed and shoved their way out the doors. The platform was dark and hard to navigate in the cold night air. Ben watched as a light bobbed toward them from the blackness. A giant voice bellowed, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Ben stared in awe at the humongous bearded man who looked an odd mix of Sasquatch and hobo.

"C'mon, follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Tripping their way through the older students, a large group of small children followed the giant down a steep, narrow path. It was so dark no one could see further than a hand's reach away. Ben tried his best to stay near Harry and Ron, but it was tough to judge distance other than the yelps when one person stepped over or knocked into another. The one familiar sound to him was Neville's distinct crying.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid boomed over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

"Woah," Ben whispered.

What had been a narrow path widened, leading to the grassy bank of a vast lake. Across the water on the other side, placed sturdy atop a mountain and cast against a sparkling night sky, was the most beautiful sight Ben had ever seen: a colossal stone castle with dozens of turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat," Hagrid ordered, beckoning to a small armada of row boats beached on the edge of the lake. Ben made for the boat Harry and Ron claimed, but Neville and Hermione jumped in first. He felt a hand tug on his and shove him into one a few down. _Oh bother,_ he thought, _I have to be with_ them.

"Everyone in? Right then – FORWARD!"

The boats floated over the water like a swarm of bees. The shaking girl seated next to him, Susan, gripped his hand tightly and wouldn't let up the whole journey. Ben didn't say anything. He occupied his time with studying the exterior of the castle and ignoring the back of Hannah Abbott's stupid head in front of him. She and a posh kid with a pointed nose were chatting about something or other. They came closer and closer to the face of the cliff that held Hogwarts.

"Heads down," yelled Hagrid. One by one their boats passed through a wall of hanging ivy that hid the opening to a cave network beneath the castle. Hagrid directed them through some kind of magic down a pitch dark tunnel; they came upon a makeshift harbor somewhere deep in the mountain. Everyone rushed to the pebbled beach. Susan didn't let go of his hand until they were both a safe distance from the water.

"Oy, whose toad is this?" Hagrid was checking each boat in case anyone left something inside it.

"Trevor," Neville shouted, clamping his hands tightly around the disgruntled animal.

Hagrid led them single-file up a thin passage carved into the rock, the faint light of his lamp the lone safeguard from total darkness. They came out onto wet grass in the looming shadow of Hogwarts. He guided them swiftly up a flight of stone steps where they congregated outside the massive oak front doors.

"Everyone here? No one missin' anythin'?"

Getting no response, he lifted a heaving fist and pounded on the door three times.


	2. Green, Yellow, Blue, Red

Chapter 2: Green, Yellow, Blue, Red

The door creaked open. An imposing figure stood before them who gave off the impression that she lived to make life as boring and structured as she possibly could for children everywhere. If it weren't for the rich green robes and black hair, Ben would have sworn it was his own mother's stern face staring back at him. He shivered, but only partially because of the nipping night winds.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid was more than double the witch's height and even he was acting like a nervous schoolchild before her.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Hagrid helped her open the door all the way. When everyone was safely inside he closed the door behind him and trekked down the sloping grass, probably to stow the rowboats somewhere.

The cluster of roughly forty children shadowed their new chaperone as she glided across the massive entrance hall. Ben followed the click-clack of shoes with his ears; his eyes absorbed as much of the room as the dim, glowing torches lining the walls allowed. The older students were clambering about behind a door to the right. A marble staircase led to the upper floors and it had a door on either side of it at the bottom. Professor McGonagall ushered them all into an empty room down a passageway to the left of the front entry.

Ben attempted to slither between other students and claim a spot near Harry and Ron, but it was too cramped in the small room. He was trapped with his boat companions. The uptight woman gave them all an appraising look.

"I would like to welcome all of you to Hogwarts. The start of term feast will begin momentarily, but first you must be sorted into one the great houses that compose our student body. I ask that you would take the Sorting Ceremony seriously. For the next seven years your house will be the equivalent to your family at home. You will eat together, live in a dormitory together, study and attend class together.

"The four prestigious houses of Hogwarts are Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. Students from each house have gone on to achieve wondrous careers after graduation. As long as you are enrolled in this school, your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule-breaking will cost you house points at the very least. Upon the end of term, the house that has accumulated the most points will be awarded the House Cup. It is an immense honor and I expect you to treat it as such.

"You will be sorted before the students and faculty shortly. Please smarten yourselves up," she said, glancing at the groups disheveled appearance, "and do try to behave. It would be a shame to enter your new house already lacking points. I shall return for you once everything has been prepared."

With that she left.

Ben tousled his previously parted hair until it lay flat on his head, the front fringe reached just over his brow. The other children were whispering amongst themselves. He felt the same dread they did about being sorted.

Hannah cleared her throat. "So Fletcher, which house will you weigh down?"

"The one you aren't in. I don't think the castle can handle much more than yours in one place at a time."

"Oh? What if we do sort the same? Will you jump off a tower?"

"Nope. I figure I've fallen from enough high places, yeah? I might push you this time."

Susan's heavily freckled face bounced back and forth between the fighting pair. She quickly changed the subject.

"Who did you sit with, Ben?"

Ben pointed a finger at Ron and Harry who stood far enough away that they couldn't hear him speak.

"Those two. We even had a fight with some other kids. I turned someone's head into a pumpkin."

"Are you okay," asked Susan. Once she was certain no injuries needed tending, she swatted at his arm. "Fighting is against the rules. You could be expelled before even getting sorted."

"They said things about my Mum."

That ended the conversation, for him at least. Susan and Hannah began a conversation over how the school would decide to sort them. Ben already knew. His uncle explained the entire process at his birthday dinner back in June. It was top secret and he had to swear not to tell any other first years or it would skew the results. Mundy said they paraded everyone up to the staff table and called them one at a time to sit on a stool and put an old hat on their head. The trick was that the hat was alive and threatened to suck out your brain. You were sorted by the reaction you gave: those who showed courage got Gryffindor, those who bribed or tricked the hat placed in Slytherin, those clever enough to discover a weakness went to Ravenclaw, and the rest were shuffled over to Hufflepuff.

Ben jerked from his thoughts as people screamed on the other side of the room. The temperature dropped significantly.

His face split into a wide grin. He'd been waiting for this his entire life. Ghosts. They weren't nearly as scary as he imagined. The figures drifted through the room like floating panes of glass covered in milk. Most of them were just old people in frilly historical clothing. A particularly fat monk was the loudest of them. "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"Haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves, my dear Friar? Do you know how many students associate we ghosts with him? I understand Hogwarts' abysmal Defense Against the Dark Arts program, but it should be obvious that he's a—heavens, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing tights and covered almost head to toe in frills spun in midair analyzing the first years.

The fat one bounced, if that was even possible, and clapped his hands together though they didn't produce any sound.

"New students, my friend!" He smiled fatherly at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Hannah appeared to be enthralled by the Friar and gave him a quiet 'yes'.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," he told them, though he addressed Abbott, "My old house, you know!"

Now she even had dead people convinced of her kindness charade.

"Move along, move along," said an authoritative voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. You can pester the children while they eat, Friar."

The ghosts slowly but surely floated through the wall again on the trek to where Ben assumed the feast was being held. He looked at Professor McGonagall with respect. Maybe he could convince her to teach him how to control ghosts too.

"Now, form a line and follow me."

The rush of bodies was disorienting. Nobody knew if being first or last would be best, so the middle built into a bloated mess. With sharp orders the chaos transformed into a single-file line. Ben got stuck behind Hermione Granger with a mean looking blonde girl behind him. She 'accidentally' kicked the back of his ankles every dozen or so steps.

They marched through the tall wooden doorway from which sounds were coming previously. The Great Hall, as Hermione called it, was bigger than the Entrance Hall by far. Countless wax candles bobbed up and down high above four long tables that stretched from the entrance to the staff table at the other end of the room. They passed the first table where students wore Slytherin green and silver patches on their robes. Professor McGonagall turned them down the aisle between the second and third tables, which Ben identified as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively. His eyes caught the golden plates, goblets, and utensils that lay neatly on each table. When they reached the staff table they lined up before it and turned to face the other students.

Nerves bubbled in his gut. He searched the Ravenclaw table and gave his cousin a scared wave. She rolled her eyes but reciprocated. Sighing, he noticed the ceiling, or rather lack of one. Granger seemed to pick up on his reaction.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History," she whispered.

"That's nice. Please be quiet."

She harrumphed.

Professor McGonagall positioned a four-legged stool more or less center to the table behind them. She put a raggedy, patched wizard's hat on top of the stool. She then stepped back as if waiting for something. The last thing Ben expected happened: the hat opened its brim like a mouth and started singing:

"Hats do well for wearing about,

Escoffin, Fanchon, and Matador,

Round them all I circle,

Performing the duty I swore.

Open your heart to my song,

Think on the words I say,

Heed the warning within this song,

Enjoy another day.

Find the courage in your heart,

On this such a wondrous occasion,

Under Godric's house you might roar,

Likely to suffer abrasion.

Intricate formula Rowena did love,

Secluded in her high tower,

Accumulating vast knowledge,

Learning to harness great power.

In earthly toil did Helga sweat,

Vindicating her passion,

Ever you wear yellow and black,

Rarely will friends fall from fashion.

Emerald tongue and twisted heart,

Dear Salazar had many a problem,

Set that apart and see them clear,

These students never fall to the bottom.

Once a September I sort you lot,

Never a time misplacing a child,

Escape to a land of magic and splendor,

Deter yourself of a life gone wild.

Unique in the world this castle may be,

Placed between mountain and lake,

Explore this school with utmost caution,

Do so for my sake!"

Applause rippled throughout the room as the hat finished singing. It bowed to each of the house tables before resting once more.

Ben scrunched his face in concentration. His mother loved poetry, it seemed the one time she expressed any emotion, but he never caught the appeal. None of it made any sense; poems were simply songs with all the exciting sounds taken out. Perhaps the Sorting Hat had bad days too. Who knew how long it took the poor thing to think out eight stanzas and get it to rhyme.

Professor McGonagall approached the stool with a long scroll in her hands. She rearranged her glasses.

"I will now call your names one at a time. Put the hat on your head, sit on the stool, and let it sort you. You may place it back on the stool and go to your house table once you hear clapping." She glanced at the top of the parchment. "Abbott, Hannah!"

She had barely worn the hat when it called out "HUFFLEPUFF!"

He mentally checked that house off his list. Sharing classes with her would be torture. The Fat Friar swooped toward her as she sat and merrily greeted her. Ben definitely needed to find a ghost friend.

"Bones, Susan!"

His fingers crossed tight. Please no, please no, please no.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

He pouted, watching Susan skip over to sit beside Hannah. They were happy together.

The next two children, an odd boy and prim girl, went to Ravenclaw to his direct left. A dour, hulking girl lumbered over to the Slytherin table at the far right. One by one they sat on the stool and found a new home at Hogwarts. When a 'Finch-Fletchley, Justin' ran to Hufflepuff, Ben grimaced. Served the git right, getting put in the lamest house. He thought himself important enough to have two names and one of them a mangled form of Ben's own surname. Gryffindor received its first boy in Seamus Finnigan.

"Fletcher, Benedict!"

A handful of students giggled at his name, none as loudly as Abbott. Ben clenched his fists and marched to the stool. The hat fell haphazardly over his head and everything slipped away to darkness. He thought he felt a faint prickling on his crown.

"Oh," a voice said from inside his mind, "a Fletcher. Quite a while since I sat atop one of those. Let's see then, yes. A good head on your shoulders; have a thirst for knowledge don't you? But you thrive on the acknowledgement of others."

"What are your weaknesses?"

"Pardon?"

"My uncle said you try to eat my brain. I have to respond the right way to get sorted."

"Not Slytherin then," the hat sighed, "perhaps Hufflepuff."

"No! I'll burn the school to the ground if you put me there!"

"Do tell me, what is so wrong with Hufflepuff?"

"You put that first girl in it."

"Ah, lover's quarrel. Students used to throw such a fit if they separated from their intended. I suppose I've become accustomed to the absence of that in these later centuries, but social conventions are cyclical, I've always thought."

"Eww, gross! Hannah is not my lover. She tried to kill me one time," he paused, "Susan chose Hufflepuff , didn't she? Knowing the person I hate most is there. She must have known I wouldn't follow her. Some loyalty."

"The fault is ever on the other side. Pity, you would have been fine in Helga's care. Another of your brood in Rowena's tutelage, I suppose."

Then aloud it bellowed, "RAVENCLAW!"

Ben dropped the hat back to the stool and walked to the group of people he now shared a house with. He picked a spot at the end where his back faced Hufflepuff. The clapping for his being sorted didn't continue for very long.

Now that sorting ended, for him, there wasn't much to do. He didn't pay much attention to where his year mates went; only clapping when the rest of his table did. Soon he was joined by other newly christened Ravenclaws: Anthony Goldstein, Su Li, Morag MacDougal, Lily Moon, and Padma Patil. Ben grew agitated. Terry Boot, the weird boy who became a Ravenclaw first, kept forcing everyone to introduce themselves any time someone new came along.

"Potter, Harry!"

The whole table went berserk, climbing over one another for a chance to see the most famous wizard of the century.

"Is that really Harry Potter," asked the Padma.

"Yeah, I shared a compartment with him on the train. Showed me his scar," said Ben.

Everyone watched with eyes glued to the small boy wearing a dirty old hat. Hardly a minute later the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry received the loudest applause yet, even more than the Sorting Hat's song. Ben clapped for his friend.

Ben noticed more of the Great Hall as the final students were sorted. His eyes stuck to the ceiling upon first arriving, but now he had time to look at the rest. The floor was made of a fine wood, oak most likely, and the walls were fitted with a similar treatment of paneling. Paintings hung in spaced intervals parallel to the house tables, their frames filled quite beyond capacity as people and creatures fought to watch the ceremony. In the wall next to the exit, high up, stood four intricate stain glass windows; each displayed one of the four iconic house animals: a golden lion on red, a bronze eagle on blue, a black badger on yellow, and a silver snake on green.

He faked enthusiasm as others were sorted. Everyone laughed when Lisa Turpin, a newly appointed Ravenclaw, knocked the stool over as she left. Ron made Gryffindor which disappointed him. It would end up like the Susan-Hannah situation all over again. Three friends have a great time together until two of them get closer and become best friends. Then Ben is stuck being forgotten and cast aside. He'd just make a greater effort this time. Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin and Professor McGonagall retreated from the hall with the hat and stool.

A man with a long silver beard at the center of the staff table stood up. He presented an air of grandfatherly warmth and a dash of that charming insanity that only elderly people can pull off. His eyes twinkled as he addressed the room.

"To those joining us for the first time, I say welcome, and to those returning welcome again. Before we lose ourselves in marvelous feasting, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He returned to his seat to raucous cheers.

Ben's jaw almost fell from its hinge as the goblets filled with liquid and the golden plates running along the middle of the table became piled with food. After a minute of surveying the selection he decided on one of everything. Soon his plate was brimming with roast beef and roast chicken covered in gravy, sausages dressed in ketchup, peas and carrots and corn, and more than a healthy amount of chips. He was a bit peeved there wasn't fish.

He looked around at the other eleven children that had become a Ravenclaw like him. They were all comparatively short, especially Su Li. A boy who came to the table before him named Kevin kept his arms wrapped around his plate like someone would steal it and glared at the candles floating way above them. Finally someone had enough.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing," Morag asked roughly.

"Wax. It might fall down on my food and kill me."

Michael Corner laughed. "My older brother says owls fly in to deliver mail during breakfast too."

Kevin's eyes bulged in fear. Ben laughed at his distress; unfortunately it drew the neurotic boy's attention.

"You have an owl, don't you," he said spitefully.

"A toad actually."

"That's even worse! I'm not touching any dish you've already dirtied."

"Toads are the cleanest animals besides fish," said Ben.

The others stared at him now instead of Kevin.

Su Li spoke up. "How do you figure—"

"Ben. They live in water, yeah? People bathe in water to get clean too."

She shook her head in disbelief. "People use soap to clean. Water animals swim in their own waste. Toads give you warts."

"Enough," Morag said slapping her hand against the table, "none of that while we're eating!"

Ben shrugged his shoulders and finished his vegetables.

"You said you know Harry Potter earlier. Is that true?" It was Padma that asked.

"Sure, we rode the train together with Ron Weasley."

"What's he like," whispered Mandy Brocklehurst.

"Pretty much a muggleborn. Didn't know about this," he gestured around, "until our letters went out."

"Neither did I," said Lisa Turpin, "my parents thought we were being haunted by a poltergeist, but it was just accidental magic. That's what Professor Sinestra said when she brought my letter."

"You might have a poltergeist too. My uncle Mundy says there's one here in the castle," Ben said as he swallowed a mouthful of chips.

Lisa was scandalized. "Really? Ghosts and poltergeists?"

"Of course. I bet the forest outside is brimming with centaurs, werewolves, gnomes, and fairies," Terry Boot said.

Ben scoffed. "How can it be full of werewolves? They're people except for the full moon. People don't live in the forest."

Terry made a face.

"Oh fairies! Are they cute and sparkly? What about dwarves and elves?" Lisa forgot her food and waited on them to answer.

"Fairies aren't like in muggle stories, helping people and granting wishes. More like butterflies really, and as smart as them too," said Morag.

"Dwarves don't get on well with goblins; they stick to the continent mostly. We don't have elves, unless you count house elves," said Ben.

"House elves?" Anthony Goldstein must've been muggleborn too.

"They're like short, weird looking maids and butlers, but compelled to do anything you ask within limit like a djinn," said Morag.

"Like Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics," asked Anthony.

No one in their group that was still listening to the conversation had a clue what that meant. Anthony huffed.

"I'll have to bring the books back after holiday. It's really neat stuff."

Ben washed down roast beef with a large gulp of pumpkin juice.

"Is that similar to Star Wars? R2D2 and C3PO," asked Ben.

"No." Anthony sighed.

Everyone went back to eating as much as their stomachs could handle. The sound of clattering dishes and hundreds of conversations reverberated from the walls. As Ben retrieved his box of Every Flavour Beans from inside his robe, a silvery figure floated to their end of the table and stopped in the middle of the group of first years. This ghost had a long, colorless dress and neatly tied hair, presenting a dignified persona.

"Hello. I hope you all enjoy the feast. Dinner is not usually this extravagant," the spectral lady said absently.

No one spoke up. Some found enough courage to nod a little.

"How forgetful of me. I am The Grey Lady, they say I am the house ghost of Ravenclaw."

Lisa scratched her cheek. "Who says?"

"Residents of this castle," The Grey Lady said turning toward her, "over time I became associated with this house and have been tasked with aiding its members while they live here."

"How old are you exactly," asked Ben.

Su Li looked affronted. "You don't ask a woman how old she is! That's rude!"

The Grey Lady smiled amusedly. "It is quite fine, young one. To answer your question, I was one of the first students to attend Hogwarts."

"Woah, that's ancient," said Ben. The girls glared at him. "You could probably beat that Friar in a fight then, yeah? Do you want to be my ghost friend?"

"Why ever would I need to tarry with The Friar?"

Ben grinned wickedly and said, "Because he's friends with my nemesis, Hannah Abbott, and I know she's going to trick him into scaring me or something."

From behind his back came an agitated, "I'm not your nemesis, weirdo!" He ignored it.

The Grey Lady chose not to reply to his request.

"Young Ravenclaws, I hope you strive to bring honor to our noble house. It has been too long that the House Cup eluded has eluded us. It would be insufferable if that man won it for the seventh year in a row."

She drifted lazily back down to converse with the older students as dinner disappeared and dessert replaced it. Ben searched the blocks of ice cream, but it seemed to be the tame types. He settled for a bowl of vanilla and sprinkled it with all the grass and sardine jelly beans he could dig out. The others soon discarded his earlier bout of oddness when he showed them his talent for identifying flavours.

Conversation moved to classes, naturally.

"I'm most excited for our Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons," said Morag, "what about you?"

"History of Magic. I'm interested in the formation of wizarding culture in England and beyond," said Anthony.

"My cousin Marietta says the professor's a ghost and he's got a fixation on goblins and giants. I can't wait for Transfiguration; I want to learn how to make golems!" Ben laughed darkly.

"We won't be taught that sort of thing. Haven't you read the textbook? It's simple shape and texture transfigurations for the whole year. Golems would need dozens of obscure charms. Do you actually know anything," asked Morag.

"I know when to shut my mouth. Can't say the same for you."

She didn't respond. Ben smirked around the spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

No one made an effort to include Ben in their conversations after that and he felt content eating the excess jelly beans in the soupy remains of his dessert. Minutes later their dished cleared. The Headmaster stood and the room went quiet.

"Ahem—now that our thirst is quenched and our appetites sated, I have a few announcements before you head off.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. Our elder students would do well to remember as well."

He looked pointedly toward someone at the Gryffindor table and then back at the parchment in his hands.

"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked that I remind you all that no magic is allowed between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch tryouts will be held the second week of term. Please contact Madam Hooch if you fancy playing for your house's team.

"And lastly, I must make it abundantly clear that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most gruesome death."

Alarms went off in Ben's head. All of them said one thing: go to the third-floor corridor.

"And now, before we depart for a night's rest, I ask that everyone join in our singing of the school song!"

Ben watched amazed as the Headmaster sharply jerked his wand like he was trying to shake drops of water from it. A length of golden ribbon flew out of it, rose high above their heads and twisted into the lyrics for them to follow along.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune, yes? And off we go!"

And the school sang in discord:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Ben sang out of tune to the Arrows fight song. When only a few students hadn't finished, twins singing to a funeral march, Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand. When they had finished, he clapped with the rest of the school.

"Music," he said, wiping beneath his glasses, "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Ben and the rest of his year mates walked in an orderly line behind the two fifth year prefects, Robert Hilliard and Penelope Clearwater, as they left the hall and climbed the marble staircase. His eyes roamed all around him as they cut a seemingly random path to their common room. They walked through large tapestries with hidden corridors behind them and three doors masquerading as parts of the castle's stone walls. On the fifth floor they passed under an open archway onto a tightly wound spiral staircase and proceeded upwards. Ben counted the number of arches they passed. The prefects led them out the second arch they came across and into a spacious corridor with a large door at the end. Their group stopped before it.

Penelope addressed the first years. "This is the entrance to your common room. It's a long held tradition that only members of a house know the exact location of its entrance. Of course, this can't be strictly enforced, but our Head of House, Professor Flitwick, asks that none of you tell your friends in other houses how to get here." She pointed to a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle on the door. "This is how you gain access to our common room. Just knock on the door and it will ask a question, usually in the form of a riddle. You can work with any of those with you to answer it. It would probably be a good idea to gather your things tomorrow morning so you don't have to go back and forth to get books and such. Copies of your timetable will be on the pin board tomorrow. Anyways, watch what I do."

She thumped the eagle knocker against the door. The last thing Ben expected was for the thing to speak.

"Give me food and I will live; give me water and I will die. What am I?"

"Take your time and think about it, but don't get discouraged. If you get it wrong you can still make educated guesses. Don't throw out random words though, it can tell if you aren't trying and won't respond to you."

Everyone thought quietly for a time. A dark haired boy who Ben hadn't heard talk the entire night walked up to the knocker.

"Fire. It burns fuel to live on and water extinguishes it."

"Quite right," the eagle said, swinging the door inward.

As they moved into the common room, Ben tugged on the sleeve of Lisa Turpin's robe. "Who was that kid?"

She blushed. "Umm, Stephen Cornfoot, I think?"

The thanks on the tip of his tongue faltered as they entered the cavernous room. He had no doubt magic played a part in its dimensions, there was simply no way this could fit naturally into any of the towers he had seen when they crossed the lake. The room had a dark blue ceiling and floor, both covered in representations of the night sky at different times of year respectively. The walls of the circular room were white marble with arched glass windows that stretched up and down from carpet to tiled roof. Robert directed them to a life-sized marble statue of their house founder, Rowena Ravenclaw. The boys went one way through a passage to their dormitories and the girls went the opposite way. Ben's year stopped at the top of a spiral staircase. Six beds with blue silk sheets lay in their room. Their trunks had been set at the foot of their assigned beds.

They put on their pajamas and fell into their beds. The wind rattled against the windows and easily sent Ben off to sleep.

That night he dreamed the nightmare again. It wasn't so much terrifying as bizarre and unsettling. He sat in a meadow that was empty besides one of those organ grinder monkeys dressed in burnt orange robes and a pointed hat. The owner wasn't there, they never showed up. Horrible music issued from the grinder and the monkey waved a twig around in the air. Then it showed up. A massive bluish-green feathered dragon beat its wings in the sky above him. It had a long, twisting body and had no legs. Spikes jutted from its brow like a haphazard crown. Dark eyes stared through Ben for what felt like forever then it descended and swallowed him whole.

He woke up and had trouble going back to sleep. When he did his second dream involved the gnomes in his garden building robots and Anthony Goldstein yelling at them to follow Asimov's Laws.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

A/N: Just wanted to take a little time to talk about the story for those wondering what it'll be about (the summary doesn't really help with that much). The plan I have for _String Theory_ is to explore Hogwarts life from a perspective close enough to Harry to allow for adventures and far enough removed that other areas can be explored. I know there's a disdain toward original characters in this fandom, and I get it, but I've at least taken a decent amount of time to try figuring outwhy they turn people off. Yes, Ben is related to canon characters, but being related to Mundungus Fletcher and Marietta Edgecombe isn't that special. It's just something to help the character feel like he fits into the world. I am adhering to the butterfly effect, so while the adventures of the first few years will still be the same (stone, basalisk, prison break) the way they happen and the outcomes will be very different. Harry is still the Boy Who Lived, Ben is a bit of chaos thrown in to make Hogwarts a weirder, more lively place.


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